mindfulness

Decay

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The picked flower dies,

but not all at once,

it must first live

with what you’ve done.

It will spend some time travelling,

wrapped in plastic sheath,

until dropped into a beautiful vase,

filled with stagnant water.

And it will hang on,

hang on for dear life,

it will take in what it can,

it will persist.

Home is where

you are

and the rain isn’t.

Yet even with the niceties of climate-control,

the roots have nowhere to go,

in this final resting place.

Leaves shrivel and brown,

like they’ve been fried.

The stalk curls,

turning brittle and bald

in time.

Petals fall,

one by one

and crumble to dust.

Another day of atrophy.

Time heals all,

as it lapses,

until you too collapse.

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Stone Fruit

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There is a certain magic

when the little things

and the finer things

overlap.

Pick them with care,

leave no bruises, carry out

your trash and promise

to replant the pits somewhere sunny.

We all stand

under the shade of trees

planted by good samaritans

of days gone by —

we’re here because of love.

Savor those moments,

as the season is short and

there’s no time for

pithy observations.

I hold peace with this

fleeting moment

in the palm of my hand.

One crisp bite

on a perfect day

and I’m grounded again

no matter where I am

or have been.

Embrace the things that change,

don’t wait up

for them to come around

again.

100 lb. of Ambergris

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Keep your eyes affixed

to the horizon and the waves,

but don’t turn your nose up

too far to breathe deeply.

Good luck takes many forms,

some as appalling as they come.

But take it all in

with an open mind,

and you will be rewarded handsomely.

Look twice at things that seem fishy

and thrice at things that appear fruitful.

You may very well

bump into your wildest dreams —

make sure to grab on tight

and give it your all.

You may need a shower

afterward,

but you’d have some gall

if you expected otherwise.

Be concerned with what’s at hand,

and the world is a little brightened.

Opportunity doesn’t always present itself neatly.

The things most worth your while,

are often unplanned.

Heaven is Under Our Feet

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You may never

step in the same river twice,

but it feels

all too familiar

to tread water.

We’re up to our knees

and it seems

we’ll be bogged-down

for a while.

You must accept

that if you get down and dirty,

you’re bound to leave

some footprints.

Press on, press on —

the adventure doesn’t end

because our shoes are scuffed,

our pants

caked with dirtclods,

our hair more mussed

than when we just woke up.

The world is your canvas,

and you are equal parts

artist and explorer-

this morning is a once-in-a-lifetime

opportunity

to simply live.

Just make sure,

upon your return,

that you don’t track any mud

on your clean carpets.

There’s a time and a place

for that.

Persimmon

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Hastiness will not reward you,

consider me

a long-term

investment.

It’s out of your hands.

Watch for the clues —

I can attest,

slowly but surely

a transformation will take place

under your nose.

Time molds the novice

into the master,

the bud into the rose —

we have it in spades,

yet rarely do we spare it

and often we wish

things would simply move along,

what a waste.

I will teach you

to allow this,

my ways are stark,

yet instructive —

I am a hot stove.

If you partake before I am ready,

you will find little to smile about.

Wash your mouth out,

and wait patiently.

Get on with your life,

return to me

with more perspective,

I’ll make it worth your while.

Wading For It

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Beware of any oasis,

because nowhere in this world of oddities,

will you cross the same river twice.

Try, try, try, as you might,

leaning into the current,

cannot bring you to the past-

grasping for the rain drops,

will not help you

stand steady and weather a storm.

No matter how torn,

you may feel,

there are times you must leave it all behind,

you’ll know it when you see it.

But so be it,

and fear not,

you never have to leave green pastures,

if you can bring them with you,

in tempests and torrents,

deserts, meadows, canyons, summits.

So long as you’re still going,

you are always exactly

where you need to be.

If you’re a fish out of water,

I really hope you’re a mudskipper.

Verbena

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Soothing clover,

Smoothing over,

Lingering soreness.

Warm tea,

Is all your senses

take in.

You can’t find it in you to panic,

About the day,

Anxieties melt away,

Nothing left to say,

Just watching the morning.

Sometimes meditation 

Is part of your routine–

Sometimes you do it 

as soon as you 

awaken.

Sometimes you do it,

In the middle

Of an intense run.

Sometimes you do it

while you eat

your morning oatmeal.

Just being there

For right now

Is all the relief

you need.

Here and Now

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When you pass time, and things have passed you by-

You hesitate to say that “time flies.”

When you look up, it’s the same sky,

then one moment it’s February, the next it’s July,

then summer’s almost over,

then the leaves have died.

Sit when you sit, run when you run,

Think not of snow when standing in the sun,

fear no sharks when you swim in the ocean,

and don’t hit the brakes if you’re looking for momentum.

The world whirls at its own pace, and does not mask this,

in this we are hapless.

Like it or not, it spins on its axis,

and you are not Atlas.

Make the best of this game of chess,

It takes finesse not to obsess,

It makes a mess to regress-

When you compress your experience,

you end up with less.